Passions of the Ghost (21 page)

Now there were a few screams from those who could see what was happening, and an uneasy shifting in the tightly knit ranks beneath the tent roof. “Be calm!” Davies was shouting, a high-pitched excitement in his voice. “It won’t harm you!” And Coster, screaming, “Make it go away, you idiot, make it go away!”

The people down below had finally realized that this was no mock-up of a dragon, and it was certainly not computer-generated.

But they still couldn’t quite believe it was the real thing.

The huge shape moved steadily toward the castle.

“Turn on the lights, Amy,” said Rey, gathering together his longbow and one of his arrows. “We want to make sure she sees us.”

Amy ran over to the cluster of equipment, checking that the spotlight was turned toward Rey, and reached for the control box Jez had left for her. But as she was about to switch it on, there was a scraping sound behind her. Distracted, she turned, just as Nicco darted out of the door to the stairwell and grabbed her around the throat.

Amy let out a surprised shriek. The sound
was only a tiny part of the chaos now being created above and below and all around them, but Reynald heard her. He launched himself toward Nicco, but then he saw the knife held to her throat, glinting in the light from the stairwell, and skidded to a stop.

“Ah, yes, very sensible,” Nicco mocked. “I don’t want my hand to slip…”

Amy cried out as the knife nicked her skin.

Reynald roared with fury. “Let her go!”

“You don’t want me to slip again, do you?” Nicco asked coldly. It was that chill in his voice that convinced Reynald he was in deadly earnest.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, controlling his emotion with difficulty. A first for the Ghost, known for his cool and clear head in times of crisis. But this was Amy, this was the woman he loved.

“I thought I might kill her first, then you,” Nicco confided in him. “And then I’ll find Jez and kill him, too.”

“You lackwit, can you not see—” Reynald began, furious, his hands clenching.

“See what?” Nicco demanded.

The sound of heavy wings beating grew steadily louder, then the dragon passed over them, blocking out the stars.

“The dragon,” Amy whispered, as Nicco looked up. His mouth fell open. Then she’d caught hold of him and, with a twist of her hip, tossed him, and next moment he was lying flat on his back on the ground.

Above them, the dragon roared out another spurt of flame, and the flags flying from the top of the keep caught on fire, as well as some of the wooden roofing. People were running and screaming. Reynald saw that the tent was also on fire, and pieces of burning matter and embers were dropping down from above. There was a flicker, then a spurt of flame came from the pavilion, as it, too, began to burn.

Reynald stared about him, sickened, as his prophecy came to pass. This was every bit as terrible as he’d feared, and he could have stopped it if it wasn’t for Nicco.

Furious, Reynald turned on his enemy. Nicco was on his feet, staggering toward the stairwell, gazing around him in shock. Reynald pursued him, and Nicco didn’t see the fist until it struck him brutally hard on the jaw. Nicco went limp, already unconscious before he hit the ground for the second time.

Amy was scrambling about, searching for the control box, which had been knocked out of her hand when Nicco grabbed her. “Yes!” She picked it up and looked triumphantly at Reynald. But by now the dragon had flown over the castle and was gone into the darkness beyond.

“We missed it!” she wailed.

“She will be back,” Rey said with grim certainty. “She has only just begun.”

Let Angharad come, and I will show her what sort of archer I am. ’Tis not only Welshmen who can kill dragons.

He found his longbow where he’d dropped it in his rush to get to Amy and nocked the first arrow, testing his muscles against the great strength required to draw back the bow. Aye, it felt good, although he was cramped with the steel plates and mail of his armor.

Reynald loosened the string again and took out the arrow, careful not to damage the goose feathers. He set his weapon down, and proceeded to remove his eighty-pound coat of armor.

“No, Rey,” Amy was trying to put it back on again. “You need to protect yourself.”

“I cannot fire the arrow properly if I am wearing this,” he retorted, and, catching her hands, held them tightly in his. “Sshh, Amy. Listen to me. I need to be able to move freely.”

She understood at last, and with an unhappy nod, let him finish. With the heavy armor off, he took up the longbow again, and this time when he tested his grip, he nodded with satisfaction. He was ready.

And then Amy spoke, her voice barely audible. “Angharad’s coming back.”

Down in the bailey it was madness. People were running and screaming, cowering under any shelter they could find and hoping it would save them. The flames from the burning buildings gave the scene a hellish quality, like a war zone, or the scene of some terrorist attack.

Jez knew he had never been this frightened, and yet at the same time he’d never felt so alive.

He found a secure place, inside the doorway of an old stone cellar, and he watched what was happening from there. He saw Miriam Ure and Davies, clasped in each other’s arms beneath a table—there was a match made in heaven. Coster was in a huddle with the police from the helicopter. One of them, the tall one with gray hair, seemed to be in charge. Detective Inspector O’Neill. His nemesis.

O’Neill was organizing some of the guests into groups, and his men were ushering them back inside the keep. Jez supposed that the thinking was the walls of the keep were so thick that even a dragon couldn’t penetrate them.

Worriedly, Jez glanced up at the north tower and wondered what had gone wrong. He’d expected to see the spotlight come on as the dragon soared toward them, but nothing had happened. The top of the tower had remained stubbornly dark. Now he was torn between going back up there to help and staying down here where he could keep an eye on O’Neill and Coster.

There was a third option.

He could take off into the night with the Star of Russia and leave everyone else to cope with the mess. Jez was seriously tempted to do just that, but his conscience—what he had left of one—wouldn’t let him. Amy was here, and she wasn’t leaving Rey. Jez wasn’t quite sure he’d made up his mind about Rey yet—it was a bit hard to get his head around the fact that the man was seven hundred years old—but he found himself liking him more and more.

No, he didn’t think he could leave Amy and Rey just yet.

There was a movement from Coster, and he refocused. The pavilion was burning merrily, and there was some attempt at putting it out with a hose and what looked like an old-fashioned bucket brigade. Coster wasn’t worried about the pavilion; he was pointing up. Jez followed the direction he was indicating, toward the north tower.

His spotlight was working after all. He couldn’t help but smile as the light changed color from pink to purple, while white discs spun and twirled. It was the only spotlight he’d been able to find at such short notice, and it had been hidden away in a storeroom. It reminded him of disco ball from the eighties. He’d wondered at the time whether it was any good for attracting dragons. He supposed he’d know soon enough, as it shone out over the top of the tower and the figure of Reynald de Mortimer.

Others had seen, too, and there were gasps and relieved cries. It was as if the crowd saw in Rey the hero they desperately needed. Even Jez was impressed. Standing with his six-foot-six-inch longbow drawn, the arrow ready to fly, his muscles were locked, and he was ready. He looked like a fierce warrior of old, a man to be reckoned with. He looked like the paintings on the ceiling outside the great hall.

“You are a bloody marvel, Rey,” he murmured, chuckling to himself.

Jez’s gaze moved on, searching the lighted area. Although he could see Rey, he couldn’t see Amy, and it worried him.

The dragon was coming back. He could hear its wings getting closer, making a whooshing sound through the air as it came. For the first time he noticed the odor, the same stench he’d been aware of in the tunnels. Rotten meat. Eau de dragon.

The creature must be able to see Rey
, he told himself. Everyone else could. It was time for the Ghost to do his stuff.

“…bloody idiot!” It was O’Neill’s voice. Several of his men were running toward the doorway into the north tower, obviously planning to put a stop to Rey’s heroics. Maybe they thought he was somehow responsible for the whole thing—Coster had probably tried to shift the blame.

Jez groaned as he realized he was going to have to do something heroic himself. For a moment he hesitated; his legs didn’t want him to. While checking out the garage he’d found Coster’s secret. He could still get out of here, head toward Shrewsbury and get back to London with the Star. By tomorrow he could be in some little cabin overlooking the sea in a much warmer part of the world. Somewhere where they didn’t have dragons.

You can still take that third option.

Even as the words were running through his head, Jez had pushed away from the safety of the cellar door and was walking across the bailey, toward the group of men.

“Hey there! What are you going to do about this mess then, O’Neill?”

The tall man with the gray hair spun around. O’Neill’s eyes narrowed and, despite the terrible situation, he actually smiled. “Jez Fairweather,” he said, “as I live and breath. I’d heard you were here. I was coming to get you when I got the call from Mr. Coster here.”

“In the name of God,” Coster was gibbering. “That…that thing! What are you going to do about that thing?”

Jez shot him a scornful look. “You were warned,” he reminded the manager, “but you laughed and went ahead with the dragon-calling anyway. Prepare to be sued.”

Coster swayed, and with a moan collapsed against one of the policemen.

All the while the heavy flapping of wings was coming closer, then there was an almighty roar. Spurts of flame shot through the sky, some of them striking the castle wall. The smell of burning made Jez’s nostrils sting and his eyes water. He coughed, shaking his head to clear it, and looked back up at the north tower.

The enormous dark bulk of the dragon was almost upon Rey, and then it slowed, hovering above him. The colored light had turned to a garish yellow, making the creature look even more nightmarish. It seemed to reach down with its two front legs, as though to take Rey in a deadly embrace.

Then it lashed with its tail, smashing glass, sending sparks into the air. The light went out.

Reynald was concentrating so totally that
when the light failed, he was disoriented. Behind him he could hear Amy yelling and Nicco cursing, but he couldn’t turn to look. He must trust her to deal with the crisis on her own and not turn away now.

The spot he had been staring at was no longer lit, but in his mind he thought he could still see it. The soft flesh just below the breastbone, as Angharad had said so long ago. Did she want him to kill her? Or was it further evidence of her scorn for him?

Muscles screaming, arms aching, he bent the bow to its fullest extent.

Are you certain your aim is true? Are you sure you are good enough with the longbow to kill something as ancient as me? I do not think you can do it, Reynald. You will never make a longbowman
.

Reynald ignored the doubts the dragon sent to crowd his head, and loosed the arrow. It sang as it flew from him. Like a machine, he was already reaching for the second, already planning for the next shot.

The dragon roared—he could not think of her as Angharad. She threw back her head, sucking in air as she prepared to douse him with flames.

He realized he was going to die.

His arrow must have missed. He’d failed again, and Angharad was laughing in his head. He glanced back for Amy, just as she knocked Nicco over with a blow reminiscent of his own. The Russian appeared to be tangled in the wreckage from Jez’s spotlight.

“Rey, do it!” she shouted, panting. “This is the moment. Now, now! I know you can.”

He knew he needed to loose his second arrow before it was too late. He knew that this time he must believe in himself, wholly and completely. Just as Amy believed in him.

His eyes were growing accustomed to the lack of Jez’s spotlight, and he realized he wasn’t in a good position if he wanted to lodge his steel-tipped arrow in the killing spot. Reynald ran along the roof of the tower, moving closer to the dragon rather than away from it, not giving it time to maneuver itself about. Fire spewed from its mouth, but only a small quantity, as it realized Reynald was no longer where he had been.

Angharad was confused—he felt her emotions now, just as she felt his. She turned her heavy body, but it was too late. He was directly beneath her. This time he didn’t allow himself to think at all. Instead, he listened to the beat of his heart, shutting out everything else as he knelt on one knee, tilted his longbow upward, and loosed the arrow. All in one fluid movement.

His aim was perfect, and the arrowhead sank deep.

The dragon’s roar turned into a woman’s shriek, and it began to move erratically, struggling to stay in the air. A terrible keening sound rushed from its long throat.

Reynald knew then that this time he had done it. The dragon was dying, and as he watched, it began to fall. Losing its sense of direction and tumbling over, it struck the wall, making the whole structure shudder, then spiraled away into the darkness of the ravine. There was a splintering of branches, and finally a thud as it struck the earth.

Angharad was dead.

Amy felt as if her body were someone else’s, as if her legs didn’t quite work properly, as she stumbled forward to where Rey stood looking over the battlements.

She couldn’t see anything as she joined him, only darkness. Everything was very still. The dragon had been so old, thousands of years old, and now it was gone. She felt sadness for the fact that such a unique creature was dead, but there was no question which one of them she’d wanted to win.

“You’ve done it, Rey. I knew you would,” she said, and reached out to grasp his hand. His skin was warm but wet with blood. She held it closer and saw that he had torn his flesh during his battle with the dragon, and Nicco. With a distressed murmur, Amy began to tie her scarf around the wound.

He watched her, a tender look on his face.

“I love you so much,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. She held his hand against her cheek and closed her eyes, trying to cram as much memory of him as she could into her head.

“And I you,” he said, and wrapped his other arm about her, drawing her against him.

“It’s over,” she whispered. “You can go home now, Rey. You can start again. I know there’s so much you want to do. I envy you that.”

She sounded wistful, but she couldn’t help it. They had been intimate lovers, and friends, and there was no point in telling lies to each other. Amy would miss him terribly and long for him every day of her life.

“I’ll come here, sometimes,” she said. “Then I can feel close to you, even though you’re seven hundred years away.”

Someone was coming, she could hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She held him tightly a moment more, then released him, stepping back. Her arms felt empty, but she didn’t let him see, as she turned to face the new arrival.

Jez sprinted across the roof toward them. “Well done, mate,” he said, clapping Rey hard on the shoulder. “You really are a bloody hero. If I hadn’t seen it, I would never have believed it.”

“We have succeeded, all of us,” Rey said.

“Yes, well, I only saw one man standing under that dragon with the bow and arrow. I think you’re the one who should get the medal.” Jez jerked his head toward the spotlight. “What happened?”

“The dragon smashed it, and before that Nicco was here.”

Jez looked about and noticed Nicco’s prone body. “What happened to him?”

“Nothing more than he deserved,” Amy said. “He tried to kill me,” she added indignantly, “so I had to throw him onto his back again, and then Rey knocked him out, and then I knocked him out. He nearly messed up everything. He knows you’ve got the Star of Russia, Jez, and he wants it back.”

Jez put his arm around her and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry about introducing you to our friend Nicco. I didn’t realize just what we were getting into there. Next time I’ll be more careful.”

“Jez…”

“I know, only joking.” He fidgeted a moment. “I have to go, Amy. O’Neill is down there. I slipped away from him while he was distracted by the dragon and the fires, but he’s probably looking for me right now.”

“Where will you go?” she asked.

“Back to London at first, and then away. Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch. But I’ll need to keep my head down for a while, until O’Neill finds some other poor bugger to harass.”

“What about a car? They know yours.”

“I have Mr. Coster’s keys,” he said with a smirk. “Did you know he had a snow scooter? I’m sure he won’t mind me borrowing it, just for a day. He owes it to me, anyway, for what he’s put us through.”

“Will you be all right, Jez?”

“I have the ring, so yeah, I’ll be all right.” Suddenly he reached out and hugged her again. “You were right, you know. You don’t need this. I’m proud of you for making your own life, and for telling me how you feel. Whatever happens from now on, you remember that.”

She hugged him back. “Send me a postcard.”

“Mr. Fairweather?”

The voice drifted up from the bailey. Amy looked over the wall and saw O’Neill, standing in a hail of ashes from the burning pavilion, looking up at them. To her dismay, she also saw his men stationed at the various exit points from the north tower. Jez said he had bolted the door that led to the stairwell, so they couldn’t get in. Yet.

“What is it with that man?” Jez asked, with a mixture of bewilderment and anger. “Anyone else who’d just seen a dragon would be too busy to worry about me.” He sighed. “Maybe I won’t be going on holiday after all.”

“Mr. Fairweather, will you please come down. It will make my life much easier if you do, and maybe it will help you on your day in court. I have a witness this time who will make a statement that you were staying here under false pretences. Movie producer? Wasn’t that what you put down as your occupation? And I’m sure we’ll find lots of other charges to add to the list.”

He pointed at the man standing beside him, holding a handkerchief to his face. It was Coster.

“The slimy toad,” Jez muttered.

“Jez, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t asked you to help, you’d be away by now.”

He looked at her indignantly. “No, I wouldn’t! You and Rey needed me. I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Mr. Fairweather?” O’Neill was calling again. “One last chance to come down, or we’re going to have to come up. You’re nicked, sunshine.”

Jez groaned. “I bet he’s been wanting to say that for years.”

“I won’t let you go alone,” Amy began, but Rey stopped her.

“Come with me,” he said.

Jez glanced at him uncertainly. “I don’t need my hand held, Rey.”

“I am not holding your hand,” Rey said wearily, “I am helping you escape.”

Jez and Amy looked at each other.

“I thought you didn’t approve of my way of making a living,” Jez reminded him. “You were talking about chopping off my hand before.”

“That was before,” Rey retorted. “Come with me, before it’s too late. There is a secret passageway that leads down into the wall, and then out into the keep.” He was already leading the way. “Once you are in there, you will need to get out quickly. But you know about the tunnels. You can use them, if you have to.”

Jez gave a shudder. “Let’s hope I don’t.”

Amy laughed. Suddenly she felt as if everything was going to be all right, as far as Jez was concerned, anyway.

Rey had knelt on the stone surface near the door to the stairwell, feeling with his hands. Then he grunted and tugged at an iron ring. A stone slab lifted, disclosing a set of dark, cobwebby stairs winding down inside the thickness of the wall, just as Rey had said.

Jez peered into the space. “You’ve been in here, I take it?”

“Aye. It’s safe. Do not get caught, and if you do, do not say I helped you. I have my reputation to maintain.”

Jez reached out to grasp his shoulder, saying a hasty thank-you, and then he gave Amy a quick final hug. He began to descend into the darkness, and Rey reached to close the door.

“I’m going to do it,” Jez said, looking up, his face a pale blur. “I’m going to go straight, Amy.”

And then the door shut and he was gone.

“Thank you for helping him get away.”

Reynald glanced up. Amy was looking at him as if he was her heart and soul.

“I did not do it only for you, Amy. He risked his life, too, to defeat the dragon…Angharad.”

He bent to retrieve his longbow and stood for a moment, inspecting the curve of wood and the linen string, thinking that it was amazing that something so simple, so beautiful, could be so deadly.

“She had to die,” Amy said gently. “You were right when you said it was either her or us.”

“I know. But still, I can’t help but feel saddened. She betrayed me, and I understand why. She was fighting for her land and her life, just as my father did, just as I have and, please God, will again.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a case of revenge?” Amy was watching him, her green eyes bright. “Morwenna was her daughter, after all. Her death was the reason why she hated you so much.”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes.

“Angharad sent her daughter in human form to try and kill you. I think that she hoped that without an heir to his lands, your father would not be able to hold on to them, that they’d fall into disorder and Angharad would be able to take them back for herself. I suppose all of this country belonged to her, once.”

“But Morwenna failed and was murdered by my father.”

“I wonder if Angharad could have saved her? She was calling out. Maybe she didn’t get here in time? How bitter that must have been for her.”

Reynald nodded. “I see your point. She blamed me and my father for the girl’s death, but she also blamed herself.”

“Guilt is a corrosive brew. It can eat at you and drive you mad.”

The voice came from behind them. When they turned, the eagle was sitting on the battlements, silhouetted against the stars.

Reynald felt confused. In one way he longed to see the witch and to be told he could now return to his home, but in another…It would mean leaving Amy behind forever.

“Do not feel sorry for Angharad,” the eagle went on. “Believe me, Reynald, in your place she would have relished your death and feasted upon your flesh.”

“What will happen now?” Amy said, meaning to Rey. He would go away and leave her, she knew it. Suddenly she felt bereft, and her new life no longer seemed like something to look forward to.

“I will take Angharad to the between-worlds,” the eagle said. “She and her kind will be together at last.”

“I meant, what will happen to Rey?”

“Why, is he wounded?”

The eagle was being purposely obtuse, and Amy glared at it. She’d had a rotten night; she didn’t need to be spoken to like this by a bird.

As if it read her mind, it gave a chuckle, rustling its feathers.

Down below, O’Neill was supervising his men as they tried to break down the door into the tower. So far they hadn’t managed it, but they were making a lot of noise.

“Rey has done what he had to do,” Amy began, as patiently as she could. “He’s completed the task you set him—”

“But this wasn’t the task he had to complete,” the eagle said coldly. “The dragon was incidental.”

“I don’t understand,” Rey whispered, clearly shattered. “Have I failed, witch? Tell me now.”

The eagle sighed. “No, you haven’t failed. You have passed your lesson. The Ghost has finally learned to listen to his own heart and not the urging of other people. That was how you defeated the dragon, by believing in yourself.”

Suddenly it hopped down off the battlements and moved toward them, and as it came it changed shape, morphing into a young woman with long auburn hair and a gray animalskin cloak about her shoulders. Her eyes burned blue, like neon.

She smiled, and Amy shuddered. There were things in her eyes, dragons in a cavern full of fire. For a brief moment she thought she saw Angharad together with a smaller dragon, then they were gone again.

“I think you have earned your second chance, my Ghost, but it is up to you. Will I return you to 1299, so that you can finally make your peace with your neighbors?
Without
Angharad’s interference.”